Fuse

Well talk about expectation
Why don’t you meet me at the station?
And we’ll remember the first thorn pricking the skin.
Breaking the skin to get in.
I am worn, I am reduced.
I am reduced my body to my quiet bed.
Running around the things that I said whilst driving,
The songs in my head,
I am elated, I am suffused,
With my freedom and my friends.
Is it you and me against the world exclusive?
Or them against us, or us all against each other to the end?
Oh I am a burnt out fuse,
What do I have to lose except the blues.
I’m a burnt out fuse.
What do I have to lose?
I beg your pardon but I never promised you nothing.
And I suppose that was good because I never got nothing.
I beg your pardon but I never promised you a rose garden,
Or a pretty picture of health
The sky and the window is a simple wealth of colours
And anyway, we all go on. Do they? Do they?
Oh i am a burnt out fuse,
What do I have to lose except the blues?
I’m a burnt out fuse.
What do I have to lose?
I beg your pardon but I never promised you nothing,
And I suppose that was good because I never got nothing.
I beg your pardon but I never promised you a rose garden.
I am a burnt out fuse
What do I have to lose except the blues
I’m a burnt out fuse.
What do I have to lose?